Behind the Fall
by CLWestwick
Summary: Bella lives in the distant future, where society has fallen and the Family has risen out of the ruins. As a Sister, with the unique ability to heal, she lives a secluded life away from normal people-especially men. Until a fateful fall puts her life into the hands of a boy named Edward, who somehow knows how to heal. Can she unravel his secrets and her own in the process?
1. The Fall (Chapter 1)

_Chapter One_

This was definitely going to hurt. The knife hovers over my arm, glinting in the sunlight from the windows lining the room. Blood pounds in my ears as my heart beats wildly inside my chest.

"Just do it already," Jess says beside me.

I lower the knife to the crook of my elbow, right above the blue line of a vein. The tip presses slowly into my skin and blood wells up around the sliver blade. We sit at the large wooden table in the middle of our classroom, bathed in the midday sun coming through the large windows lining the far wall of the room. Like all the Sisters around the table, we wear the long off-white robes of a novice. Chatter and laughter fills the room. No one else is having a problem with the Blade Bane Cure. I look at Jess out of the corner of my eye. She has blue eyes, a bit of a cowlick, and long blonde hair that's plaited and pinned in a crown circling her head. Mine's the same, except it's brown. She's my best friend.

The pain starts to kick in. "Ow ow ow," I whine, dropping the knife onto the table. Jess sighs dramatically as she reaches for the fallen blade. I extend my uninjured arm towards the wooden bowl in front of me filled with the sticky mess I concocted earlier.

"Maybe that'll be enough for-" I begin to say hopefully.

"Bella," Jess says exasperatedly, "What kind of Mother is scared of seeing blood? Just do it quickly. The worst part is being a wimp and dragging it out." She raises her arm and shakes back one long sleeve as she grips the knife in her other hand. Jess is wrong, though; I'm not afraid of blood, just the pain. A lot of Sisters are scared of blood as kids, but you learn pretty quick that that's just unacceptable in the Sanctuary.

"See?" she says, as she stretches her arm towards me.

"It's more that I don't like pain, actually" I say quietly, leaning my uninjured elbow onto the table and cradling my face in my palm. All too often lately my cures weren't working at all, and I can't figure out why. I follow the instructions perfectly and I even know most of the theory behind them, unlike Jess who just follows direction, but half the time I just end up creating a useless mess. She ignores me and the blade slices through her skin. Blood begins to flow immediately from the long, shallow cut. She doesn't flinch like me. Her arm relaxes onto the table in front of us and she scoops up the poultice she made at the start of class with her other hand. She spreads the sticky mass of leaves and flowers into her cut, staunching the blood. "Your turn," she says smiling, as the cure takes effect. I scrunch my face into a scowl as I pull the wooden bowl holding my cure towards me. I know she'd been encouraging me to cut deeper, but I don't want to chance it and end up suffering while I beg Jess to let me use her cure. The pain from my tiny cut isn't so bad now, but I scoop up a bit of the cool, sticky cure with one finger and spread it on the nick in my arm anyway. Jess rolls her eyes as she wipes the cure off her skin with a cloth.

"Well done, Jessssum," Mother Rose says from over my shoulder. "And how was your Blood's Bane, Sister Bella?" she asks as she bends to gaze at my arm. I blush and mumble that I think it worked as I wipe the cure off my arm, exposing the cut. A small bit of blood rises to the surface, a tangible sign of my failure. I sneak a glance at Jess's arm; not only has the blood stopped flowing but her skin doesn't even show a sign of healing. The cut is simply gone, as if it had never existed. It's extra humiliating in front of Mother Rose, the new favorite with the Sisters because she's young, beautiful, and worked in Home. She's taller than any of the other Mothers and thin, like a bird, with short brown hair, that would look masculine on anyone else but it just manages to make her look more feminine. Most Mothers don't return to the Sanctuary to teach until they're old and grey, but Mother Rose was only working for a few years. She says she missed the Sanctuary too much, but I can't wait to leave.

"Hmmm," she exhales as she picks up the bowl in front of me holding my cure. She sniffs the poultice and rubs a pinch of it between her fingers. "Your composition is correct. Must be your preparation. Did you add the elements in the right order?"

"Yes," I say, blushing furiously as I stare into her face. Her big brown eyes look down at me kindly. At least, I hope that's kindness and not pity.

"I don't think so, Bella. Pay more attention to when you add the horsetail and how much you grind it. This piece is too much large to be efficacious." She returns the bowl to the table and moves past us to check up on the other Sisters. She stops to look at Ash, a small girl with a beaky nose and frizzy brown hair, and smiles encouragingly as she touches her arm.

I grumble and grab the pestle next to my cure and start grinding the contents of my bowl.

"_She's_ too large to be efficacious"

"Bella!" Jess hisses at me as she elbows me in the side. Our friendship has been strained lately, partly due to her refusal to help with any of my cures and mostly due to a black mood I can't seem to climb out of.

In the end, though, she's still my Sister. But I wonder, and I have been wondering this more and more lately, if whether it might be better to just have regular sisters and a normal family. I know I've been blessed to be born into the Mother caste, and that there are girls in the Family who are starving, have uncertain futures, or need to marry to support themselves-all things I will never experience in my life-but sometimes I wish I had one mother instead of a hundred Mothers.

The old bell echoes throughout the grounds signaling the end of our period. The other Sisters and I hurry around the classroom scraping out our cures and washing our tools. I end up sandwiched between Jess and Ash in the line to wash and stack our bowls. Even though we've grown up together, Ash and I have never spent much time as friends. She's a few years younger than me, we've never shared a dormitory together, and we both tend to be shy and stick around the louder Sisters in our year. Ash looks over her shoulder, at my cure that's barely been touched, and gives me a hesitant smile. I guess everyone knows by now that I'm quickly becoming the worst in our year.

"You know, Sister Bella, this is a pretty difficult cure, so if you want help learning it-"

"It's not difficult," I spit out, more to myself than to her. "It's easy and you know it. Don't act dumb for me."

"But," she looks dubiously at my cure. I glance nervously at the front of the line and see Elm cleaning her bowl thoroughly. I wish she would hurry up.

"But maybe I could help with the theory or-"

I'm tired of looking like an idiot. I lash out at her.

"I understand the theory, Ash." I say angrily. "Alright? Just drop it." I stare at the front of the line. Ash stands quietly in front of me, head slightly bowed. Great, now I'm not only failing my lessons but I'm becoming mean too. Ash is pretty small, about a head shorter than me, and I feel like I just yelled at one of the kids. We stand in line awkwardly and I stare miserably ahead until Elm finally wipes her bowl dry and stacks it on a shelf next to the water basin.

The Sisters shuffle out of the class in twos and threes, while I try to resolutely avoid Mother Rose's questioning gaze. However, I can't avoid Jess who slips her arm around mine and hisses in my ear, "What was _that_?"

"Nothing. Let me go."

"You're in a foul mood today," she says as she releases my arm.

I slip past her and out the door, into the large familiar hallway.

The Sanctuary is my home. I was born here and I've spent every day of my life here. People in the little town down by the sea call it a castle, though I've seen drawings of castles and I don't think it is one. It looks more like a group of stone houses that grew closer and closer to each other until they started to merge together, leaving a courtyard in the middle.

I slip into the mass of Sisters flowing through the hallway and step into a current leading towards the eastern staircase. I pass the diamond paned windows that overlook the courtyard and I can see that it's another beautiful day. Below me, Sisters and Mothers tend to the courtyard garden; their white figures flit from one garden bed to the next. We like to grow our most often used elements there, so that anyone can access them easily. I turn away from the familiar scene and stare down at my feet as I step over the grey stones. My family surrounds me but I feel alone. I hate the fact that my fellow Sisters and Mothers know I'm failing at healing. Sometimes it takes a while for a Sister to memorize a cure, or if they're particularly slow they frequently rely on texts to aid them, though that's frowned upon. Even those Sisters, who fumble with directions and technique, even they can make decent cures. All Sisters become Mothers. No one is left behind. But I think I will be.

I walk down the eastern stairs and continue onto the first floor on my way to the main doors. Today I am due in the greenhouses, which lie to the west. The thought of listening to Mother Precious drone on about the numerous uses for Turmeric is nauseating. What's the point of knowing how I could heal with it if I can't actually heal?

Sisters begin to thin out around me as some duck into classrooms, nip into the courtyard, or file out the main doors. I find myself in the entrance hall. It is the tallest part of the building, with a high vaulted ceiling crossed by dark wooden beams. Parallel to the doors, on each side of the hall, two stone staircases curve up to the second floor and meet in front of the large stained glass window depicting the First Mother. Out of habit, I glance up at the sprawling window that is dominated by red and orange. The First Mother, dressed in white robes and wearing her golden hair in the crown that Sisters replicate, sits in a field surrounded by hearty green plants. Light emanates from the panes surrounding her. She's more than a little intimidating, especially today. I stare at my brown shoes as I rush down the staircase and out the main wooden doors that are over twice my height. The walkway gravel crunches underneath my feet and I keep my chin tucked as I swivel my head and try to see if anyone is watching me. Sisters are still hurrying to chores and classes, so I don't look too suspicious. Though, when I slip out the iron gates and into the forest that surrounds the Sanctuary grounds, a Mother would definitely know I was skipping out on my duties. I don't see any Mothers and I spur myself into a light trot to reach the main path leading into the trees. We're not expressly forbidden from entering the forest; sometimes a Mother will hold a class within it and we always take paths through the forest to reach the little town of Ostrander or the ocean.

I think what really scares them, the thing that we're always warned against, is meeting a man in the forest. In Ostrander the women don't fear the men and live apart from them, so what makes a Mother different? Is it just that we have a higher purpose? Or because we are the descendents of the first Mother?

I'm not an idiot, I've heard of sex, and I think that's what they're afraid of. Mothers are only ever supposed to do _that _with men from the Brothers caste, and only for the express purpose of creating a future Mother. If any of my Sisters wish they could fall in love or be kissed by a man, they don't talk about it and neither do I. Anyway, we all just accept the fact that the forest is dangerous, but I've been going into it on my own for a few years now and the scariest thing I've ever seen is a deer. I never go too far in, though.

The gravel gives way to dirt. My boots stir up the road as I trot down it, sending dust into the air that clings to the hem of my robes. It can't be helped. I veer to the right and start the winding descent down the hillside traveling a game path. I hike up my robe, revealing my leggings underneath. A very improper act for an elder Sister, but no one can see me here. That's another reason I love coming out here. The Sanctuary is my home and I love my Sisters and Mothers, but sometimes I need to be truly alone. The pines give way to redwoods as the game path deepens. The forest slopes down a hillside, and the path is not an easy one to follow down it. Usually I scramble down and pause at my favorite tree trunk to soak it in, but actually going for a walk through it is near impossible. The giant old trees block out the sun and the world becomes grey and quiet. The only sound is the faint trickle of the river in the distance to my right. I've never gotten close to it, but from a distance it is no more than a thin sheet of water sliding over a few rocks, but I know it becomes deeper the longer you follow it because it twists around the Sanctuary and heads towards the ocean.

A huge fallen redwood, whose trunk is wider than I can spread my arms, has fallen since the last time I was here. It's created a bridge over a gulch in the hill. Now I can get to the other side! I've never tried before, because it looked too hazardous and I didn't want to search for a way around, but this is much too convenient to pass up.

I ungracefully climb the trunk of a fallen tree that has handily become a bridge to the lower bank of the river. I spread out my arms to balance as I step down its rough trunk. I'm completely focused on not falling off the tree to the rocks below when the dark brown bark reminds me of Mother Rose's eyes. Suddenly I'm back on my bench, staring up at her as she tells me I failed yet again. My feet slip and I fall to one knee. The uneven bark cuts through my robe and leggings, leaving me with a scrape as big as my thumb. "That's appropriate," I mutter to no one as I look at the blood welling up from my knee.

I reach the far bank and begin walking along the river. There isn't much of a path, but the river is lined with small ferns and grasses that I easily walk over. Compared to the loud talk and laughter of my classroom, it's practically silent here. The river widens and deepens beside me. I should probably start heading back to the Sanctuary. Though, there's a chance Mother Precious will just assume I'm with the Arche Mother. A few months ago the Arche Mother's former acolyte, Sister Jana, advanced and I became the new acolyte. Mostly I just write correspondences, copy old texts, and complete whatever tasks she assigns me. It's usually an honor bestowed on the most promising Sister, but with my record everyone is sure that it's so she can try and keep a closer eye on me.

The river continues to widen as I follow it into the forest. Its pleasant gurgle has increased to a distant roar. There must be a drop off ahead. The sound grows louder as I walk farther into the forest than I ever have before. Suddenly the water is flowing over sleek black rocks and cascading over the side of a cliff. I go as close to the cliff's edge as I dare, and stare into the pool of water that collects below me. It's like standing in the entrance hall, looking down from the great staircase. The left side of the fall is a steep cliff covered in redwoods and ferns heading up towards the Sanctuary, while the right side slopes downward and is similarly covered in vegetation. Neither offers me an immediate way to the bottom of the waterfall. The water collects into a tiny swimming hole, but I don't trust jumping into it. A fallen redwood has made a bridge of sorts from near the top of the waterfall to the rock below. I edge close, being careful to step in the dry wake a boulder has created by blocking part of the stream. I crane my neck over, peering at the water below me, when I hear a voice in my ear.

A girl cries out and is silenced.

My heart lurches at the piercing sound and the dead silence that follows it. The lurch tugs my whole body forward; my foot slides out from under me and I fall onto the cold, hard rock. The current carries me inescapably over the waterfall and my stomach feels weightless as I plunge into the air. The water gracefully arcs on either side of me, flowing into the pool below, while I fall like a hard stone straight down. I scream as I expect to feel the freezing water engulf me, but I land on hard stone, my ankle twisting beneath me as I collapse onto my side. Hot pain radiates up my leg as I lay huddled underneath the overhang of the waterfall, groaning incoherently. The cold spray wets my face. I can barely breath from the shock. My eyes flutter open to look at the falling water. A man's legs appear before me as he kneels on the ground. I hear a thousand warnings and implications from a hundred Mothers flash through my mind but one cries louder than the rest: men will always hurt you.

Always.


	2. A Miracle and a Swift Knee (Chapter 2)

_Chapter Two_

"Shit! Shit," a deep voice says. "Are you all right? Mother! You're a Mother, right? Shit." His hand roughly grips my shoulder as another slides between my cheek and the wet stone. My eyes close weakly and I let his callused palm support the weight of my head. "Hey, wake up!"

I gasp, finally bringing air into my lungs. The pain in my ankle immediately escalates. My eyes shoot open to stare at the man above me. I can barely make out his dark face because of the bright light behind him, but I am struck by how intense his brown eyes are under his thick, black brows as he stares at me. He has a thin beard covering his face, not quite a man's but not a young boy's either. His mouth moves but I can't hear what he's saying. His eyebrows furrow in concern as he gently shakes my shoulder and mouths words I can't hear.

No man has ever touched me. Everyone was right, I should never have come into the forest. I struggle to push him away, like I'm stuck in a dream and I can't quite move my body like I should. My head feels heavy from where I struck it on the ground.

"Hey Mother, can you hear me?"

"Yes," I say weakly. "Yes. I'm fine."

"Hah! Liar. Can you sit up?"

I try to bring my awareness to the rest of my body and not focus on the blinding pain in my ankle. I can't tell where any of my limbs are in relation to the rest of my body, like when you roll over on an arm in sleep and can only feel it once you start to move. I slowly slide the arm that is underneath me from its awkward position and try to push myself up. The man insists on supporting me. Doesn't he know men aren't supposed to touch Sisters? I know any normal Sister would push him away, or cringe in disgust, or cry for help, but I don't want to do any of that. Right now I'm just glad for his help. I sit up and pull my injured leg out from under me. My robes are caked in mud and water up my right side. I unlace my boot with shaking fingers and gingerly pull it away from my leg. My skin is a deep, mottled purple and my ankle is swollen like a fat sausage. The man besides me lets out a commiserating hiss. I clench my eyes shut and will myself not to break down.

"You don't really have a choice, but wait here for me." The kneeling man says beside me kindly, one hand to the small of my back.

"Where are you going?" I groan, doubled over with my teeth clenched from the pain.

"Don't worry, I'm just going to gather Hart's tongue, Wood Sorrel, and Hedge Woundwort. I'll be right back," he says in a calming voice, the kind I reserve for small children and animals. Three feelings hit me at once: relief that someone can gather them for me, despair that I can't actually heal, and unmitigated fright at the thought of a _man_ gathering elements. He shouldn't know which ones I need, what they look like, or why I need them. The complete _wrongness_ of his statement arrests me. I think I stop breathing.

His smile falters at the look on my face. He must have realized his mistake because he says, "Uh…I mean…Shit. Look, do you want me to help you or not?"

The pain is unbearable so I naturally whimper, "Yes."

"Fine. Then don't ask any questions. Deal?"

What choice do I have, really? I have no idea how he learned to help a Mother, or why, and even though it terrifies me he's the only one who can help me. I clench my eyes shut and nod my head. He rises, and walks towards the edge of the waterfalls overhang. He steps into the light and I can see his coarse brown pants tucked into soft leather boots and long white top with pushed up sleeves. He must be a fisherman because his skin is deeply tanned and his arms are muscled. He's even handsome, with his strong jaw and messy bronze hair. Fear clenches my heart. He may be a rude and hiding a secret, but he's the only person who knows I'm out here. What if he doesn't come back?

"W-wait!" I call, raising one arm towards him. "You'll come back, won't you?"

He looks back at me and smiles pityingly. The line of his jaw and the width of his shoulders make me think he's a few years older than me. I must seem like a pathetic little kid to him.

"Fear not, young Mother." He says jokingly. "Everything's going to be alright." He steps under the spray of the waterfall and disappears. I lower my arm to my side and wait. As a Sister, I have never had to sit with pain for long. For my whole life cuts, bruises, and scrapes have been healed almost as soon as I could acquire them. Having to sit with this pain makes me realize how blessed I have been, and how necessary Mothers are. The throbbing, burning pain is excruciating. It pulls at my consciousness, threatening to drag me down with it like a tide at sea. I huddle in a ball as much as I can and try not to cry. I just need to rest and then I will balance on my good leg and hop to the rock wall; Then I'll skirt around the swimming hole; Then I'll slowly climb up the fallen log; then I'll crawl back to the Sanctuary. In just a moment…

I don't know how much time passes before the man returns, but I've never been so grateful to see anyone. My face is wet from the tears I couldn't keep at bay. I don't hear him over the roar of the water but I can sense when he kneels down next to me. He has a pack beside him and he begins to rummage through it before pulling out a cup.

"Alright," he says. "I'm assuming you'll want to make a tea and poultice, so I hope I've brought enough. We don't have your fancy tools but I think we can make do with good old mastication." I stare at him blankly as he begins to break the fern fronds into smaller pieces and pile them in my lap. He not only knew the names of the elements to gather, but he identified them as well?

"You want me to chew these up?"

"The original mortar and pestle." He says firmly, as he moves on to stripping the sharp, green woundwort leaves. I shove the plants into my mouth and start chewing. The man smiles slightly but does not look up as he hands me the cup. I keep my eyes on him as I spit the bitter plant mass into it, hoping he won't see me do it. I set the bowl on the ground beside me before shoving more plants into my mouth. It's a convenient way for him to stop me from asking questions, for now.

"So, what're you doing out here?" He asks, breaking the silence.

"Running away."

He stops tearing up plants to stare at me incredulously. "Really?"

"Ha! No. Actually, yes, in a way. Have you ever taken out a foul mood on someone who didn't deserve it? I was horrible to one of my Sisters for no reason today. She's probably crying right now…"

"Did you apologize?"

"…no."

"Ah, I see," he says, returning to decimating the plants. "That's one of my major flaws, too. It's never made me try and kill myself, though."

"Wha-no! I-I didn't-"

He smiles at my expense. My only reply is to grumble and sullenly cross my arms, but secretly I'm relieved he was just kidding. I don't think anyone really _approves _of suicide, but for Mother's it's especially heinous. We are givers, nurturers, healers-our lives are not our own. When a Mother kills herself she doesn't just end her own life, she

We work in silence and I steal peaks at him whenever I can. I try to spit the wad of plants into the bowl as quietly as possible. I don't remember ever having seen him Ostrander. A fierce blush betrays me as I realize I would have remembered him because of how handsome he is.

Once I have chewed all of the plants the bowl is practically over flowing. I hand it to him and tell him to add water to it. "But not too much, the poultice just needs to be a little wetter."

He adds the right amount and I hold the bowl tightly in my hands and pray to the First Mother. I don't mention that she owes me, or ask where she was when Ash was killed, but implore her to make my cure work; even if I am a bad Sister, even if death does follow me, even if I don't deserve it, I ask her to help me just this once and make the pain go away. I spread the sticky poultice over my leg and a cool, numbing sensation follows my fingers. I feel the skin heal, my blood vessel knitting them selves back together, and I sigh loudly. The man shoves a cup of water with a few plants I haven't chewed floating in it and I gulp it down greedily, knowing they'll become a part of my body and hasten the healing of my bones and cartilage. I lie back on the damp rock and stare up at the overhang, laughing.

"Are you losing your mind?"

"I hope not," I say, turning my head to face him and smiling. "I want to keep this feeling forever."

"You never appreciate how good normal feels until you've been in pain."

I was definitely appreciating it now. I sit up and wipe the cure away with my fingers, slinging it onto the ground. My once purple, swollen, and disfigured ankle is now back to normal-albeit knobby and pale, but beautifully healed. Everyone says the Mothers' healing is miraculous, and once I stopped being able to heal I had to agree. It's more than the knowledge, or the Mother's will, or the plants-there is an important element to the process I have been missing for months. Maybe I just needed the right water.

"Test it out, see if it can take your weight."

He grabs my arm and gently pulls me to my feet. My ankle is tender but strong beneath me. It would be better if I could keep off it for the next few hours, until my tea could take affect, but I have to hobble back. He stares down at me, with a crooked smile. He's so close, with his warm hand around my arm, and I can feel the small space between us shrink with every breath I take.

No one outside of my Sisters and Mothers has ever handled me so familiarly; my stomach feels like it plummets to my feet at his touch. Why would he touch a Sister when he knows it's forbidden? Maybe the more important question is: why aren't I stopping him? I look away and step out of his grasp.

"What are you doing?" I ask. He looks at me strangely, like he's seeing me for the first time.

"What do you mean?"

"T-touching me like that! You know you shouldn't…" I trail off, because a part of me whispers that he should.

He arches one brow, and looks at me quizzically. His voice doesn't match his words as he says, "My apologies, Mother. I didn't know helping you up was off limits."

"I'm not a Mother, I'm just a Sister."

"Alright, Sister, let's get you back to Sanctuary."

He grabs his pack and we walk around the waterfall, careful to avoid the pool. I walk after him slowly but surely. The sky has brightened from a light grey to a hesitant blue. I can barely make out the sun overhead, but I know it must be mid-afternoon. He leads me along the river, which has spread as wide as the pool, to a small trail parallel to the river leading up the hill. I walk behind him, noticing the frayed pant legs and the patched elbows of his sleeves. His pack looks old but strong and the bottom is covered in mud. I wonder why he's out here and if I'll run into him in Ostrander. A small flame of hope flickers alive inside me.

"Don't you even want to know my name?" I call.

"Don't you all have the same name?"

I laugh and roll my eyes.

"My name isn't Sister. It's-" I start to say my name but suddenly realize that might not be a good idea. If word gets out that I was spending time alone with a man, I could be severely punished, my reputation ruined, and shamed by my Mothers and Sister. "It's River," I say quickly, using the first name that comes to mind.

He stops walking when we reach the end, or beginning, of the trail in the trees above the mouth of the waterfall. From my vantage above the waterfall it had been invisible, though I'm sure I would have found the mouth of the steep, narrow path in a clump of trees if I had looked hard enough; Or at all. Was it stupidity or fate that made fall into the waterfall?

He turns to face me, his breath hitches and I know he's about to speak. I rush to interrupt his goodbye.

"Can I ask why I can't ask any questions?" I sputter out.

The question catches him off guard and his once solemn face stretches into a surprised smile. "That would defeat the purpose," he says.

"But…"

"I assume you'll be fine from here, River. Good luck. And…" His brows furrow and I feel a shiver run up my spine in the cold wind.

"Don't come back here."

I laugh awkwardly. He gives no indication that he is joking, but stares stiffly at me. It's intimidating. There's no trace of the surprised smile anymore. How can one person's mood be so mercurial?

"You aren't serious? Why shouldn't I come back here?"

"That I am," he says, his voice lowering. "And there are a lot of reasons to stay away."

My eyes flicker over every inch of his face, searching for a clue in his expression. Are all men this confusing?

"I don't even know your name."

"Can't tell you that, Sister. But what I can tell you is it's for your own good. "

"Look, I don't know why you're saying this, but you can't tell me what to do. And there's no way I'm not coming back here. Do you have any idea how longs its been since a cure worked for me? That water is nothing short of miraculous. No," I say, shaking my head. "There's no way I'm not coming back here."

His eyes narrow and his jaw clenches. He slides his pack over his shoulder to drop to the ground, before turning his back on me. Obviously he's trying to decide how to deal with me. I can't imagine he's used to seventeen-year-old women standing up to him. He runs his hands through his hair and sighs, not in tiredness but frustration. I distinctly hear him mutter "shit" before he spins around to face me and covers the distance between us in two strides. I barely have time to panic before he clasps his hands around my shoulders holding me in place. Instinctively, my hands fly up to his chest and I try to push him away. It's useless. I start to demand he let me go but catch my breath at the furious look on his face. His eyes are focused completely on my lips.

He's going to kiss me.

He's going to kiss me.

Swiftly I bring my knee up between his legs and he immediately lets me go with a groan as he falls to one knee. I pull up my robes and run as fast as I can on my throbbing ankle. I glance back over my shoulder, to see him exactly where I left him.

"It's for your own good, River!" he yells, and I shudder. Why did I have to pick _that _name? I don't look back. My ankle feels stronger with each step I take, but I feel weaker.


	3. The Noose (Chapter 3)

_Chapter Three_

Walking back through the forest takes longer than I thought it would, even with my tender ankle. The sun is setting and the already dark forest is becoming extremely hazardous for my newly healed ankle. Crickets begin to wake up and birds sound their last lonely calls. By the time I reach the dirt road night has officially fallen and there is no doubt in my mind that I've missed dinner. Candles shine in the distant windows of the Sanctuary and I hurry towards their light. Looking down at my torn and dirty robe makes me reconsider trying to scrounge up dinner. We've all grown up with strict rules about cleanliness. When I watch the young Sisters I always make sure they're clean, especially their hands. It's just something we do here.

As I consider heading around to the back entrance of the kitchen, I notice that something is wrong. I can here screams from the wide-open main doors. I hike up my robe to my knees and run towards the cries, stumbling over the loose gravel. I can see figures standing in the entrance hall, lit by the burning wall sconces. The dim firelight flickers over them but I can't see what's going on. I stop abruptly as I reach the doors and drop the hem of my robe. Panting, I lean against the heavy wooden frame and look at the Sister and Mother around me. Every face is wet with tears. Some stand silently, others wail. I follow the gaze of those who stand transfixed, starring up towards the stained glass portrait of the First Mother.

Hanging from one of the thick beams that holds up the ceiling is a Sister. A rope fits snuggly around her neck and her feet dangle in the air. Her body looks so small in her white robes as she gently sways in front of the dark glass. I desperately try to make out her face in the dim firelight, but all I can see is her frizzy brown hair and the large shadow of her nose. And that's how I know its Ash.

People pour in from every access to the entryway, filling the room like rising water. It's at once reassuring and stifling. I see little Fin and Stone huddled together at the top of a staircase, staring with wide, shiny eyes at Ash. Stone wipes her eyes on her white sleeve and begins to wail. I find myself in the middle of the entranceway with bodies pressing all around me. No one has ever killed herself here; it's almost unthinkable. That's not true, there's the legend of the Mother ghost who haunts the east wing. Everyone says she killed herself because she fell in love with a man she couldn't be with. Is that what happened to Ash?

I have to get out of here.

I begin to push through the mass of my Sisters. I reach an arm between two girls and manage to spread a small opening for me to slide into when I look down and see a tiny, yellow crowned head clinging to the robes of Sister Sage. In her grief, Sage doesn't seem able to see anything but Ash's body. Next to her, Autry and Summer have to struggle to physically hold up the large, black Sister. I bend down and scoop up the little girl at Sage's feet. She turns in my arms to cling to me and I see the large eyes and button nose of Marigold. I look around and see dozens of kids who are far too young to be here, but no one is herding them away. What are we going to do with all of these children?

There is a space clear of people underneath Ash's body. I don't know if they are afraid or reverent, but no one wants to go too close to her. A crowd of Sisters hovering near Ash's body parts, letting the Arche Mother into the open space. I instantly feel guilty when I see he; it's just instinctual since she's always rebuking me. As her black eyes travel over the scene, Sisters begin to fall quiet under her gaze. For once I'm glad to see this squat, stalwart old woman. It's even reassuring to see her long white hair braided like a Sisters, since she's the only Mother who does it and that usually irks me. I focus on her hair and refuse to look above it to Ash's tiny shoes.

"Sisters," she calls, spreading her arms wide to address the entire room. Most of the babble dies down immediately but a few cries linger on, like Sage's, amplified in the sudden quiet. " Compose yourselves! We will gather in the Temple to address this tragedy. Do not run, or push, or cry as you go, but act as the First Mother would, with dignity and grace." Her eyes momentarily catch mine as she says that, as if she's asking me not to embarrass her. "Go. Go now. And care for each other!" As she spoke, Mothers appeared at the edges of the room and now they gently guide the Sisters out of the entrance hall. Most Sisters leave the room with a dazed look on their face. That must be what I look like too.

I follow behind the Sisters as we move towards the temple, which is on the side opposite the entrance hall. No one really heads the Arche Mother as everyone is whispering, crying, or sniffling. Ironically, I obey her for the first time as I am too shocked to make a sound.

"Bella," I hear Jess yell from behind me, "Bella!"

I stop, like a stone in water, and the Sisters continue to walk around me. Jess catches up and wraps her hand around my upper arm. It's just like the man in the forest, helping me up. It's just like in class when Jess yelled at me for being mean to Ash. I should have gone back and apologized, but now I never can.

"Where have you been?" she hisses angrily. "When I saw Ash, I thought…Oh, Bella."

She strokes Marigold's back to comfort the still crying girl.

"Did you see her?" she asks, her voice breaking on the words.

People begin to shove past us in their haste to reach the temple. I disentangle Marigold's arms from around my neck and transfer the girl to Jess, who scoops her up absentmindedly and continues stroking her back.

"I'm sorry, I can't be here." I say.

I stare ahead of me at the crowd of Sisters and Mothers heading towards the Temple. There's too much misery; I feel it closing over me like a rising tide. Jess sputters in disbelief as I push my way towards the eastern staircase that leads to the second floor. It is deserted and I climb the steps easily, leaving behind the cries of the women below. I glance back to see Jess, still unmoving as she holds Marigold, staring at me with wide eyes.

The second floor has some Sisters and Mothers who hurry through the relatively near empty hallway. Now I can hear the old bell ringing outside, calling all of us towards the temple. I wonder if they have cut Ash's body free from the rope yet. I distractedly rub my neck as I move throughout the maze of small hallways towards my room. I begin to run as I near my door, suddenly needing more than anything to have it between reality and me.

I reach the wooden door and fling myself inside. The walls are white like the hallway and there is a small window recessed near my bed. The only furniture I have is a bed, a writing desk, and a cabinet for my clothes. Collapsing onto my lumpy mattress, I curl into a ball and try not to think about Ash. I fail: the image of her offering me help keeps flashing between the image of her dangling feet.

Don't we all live similar lives? Could the things that bring me happiness not have touched her in the same way? Could the life I take for granted have brought her so much pain? What was she missing that I have? Or worse, did she know something about living that I don't? Something that would drive her to take her own life…

I wake up to a knocking at my door. I must have drifted off to sleep, though I don't wake rested. I stumble, guided by instinct in the pitch black, and open my door. I peak out into the hallway, my eyes drawn to the flickering candle in Mother Franklin's hand. She looks haggard but I must look worse, because she wears a pitying expression.

"Good evening, Sister. I'm sorry to wake you, but the Arche Mother has need of you."

"_Now_?" I ask, and she arches one black eyebrow at me "-er, that is I'll-I'll be right over."

She lightly bows her head and hands me the candleholder. As she turns to leave she pauses and looks back at me with an unreadable expression.

"I'm sorry for your loss-it must be…unbearable for the Sisters. The Mothers are of course, distraught but you must have been closer to her…if you need anyone to talk to, I'm here."

Pressure builds behind my eyes and I feel tears threaten to fall. "I just don't understand," I say.

"Why she killed herself? I don't either…"

I shake my head and stare into her eyes; they switch between brown and black in the candlelight.

"No, why I am alive and she is not."

I expect her to pat my shoulder, or squeeze my hand, but instead she looks at me thoughtfully, as if my question is legitimate and she too is wondering why I am not in Ash's place.

"Would you rather it was you than her? Would you trade your life to have her back? Did she mean that much to you, or is this about-"

"It's nothing," I say quickly. "It's not about that. I'm just tired. I'm sorry, I have to meet with the Arche Mother."

"Of course." She says, but she doesn't move. I want to close the door in her face before she can say anything else. There are things I don't want to hear. Memories I don't want to look at. "Just promise me that you won't do anything foolish, like try to bring Ash back."

"What're you talking about?"

"Grief drives us to do things we never imagined."

"But it isn't real," I scoff incredulously. "I'm not foolish enough to believe in some plant that can bring the dead back to life."

"The First Mother did, even without the flower of life."

Mother Franklin is really weird. She's _obsessed_ with the first Mother. I swear every time we talk she brings her up. Can we just for once be two normal human beings without the history lesson?

"Alright, _well_, I'll be sure not to go looking for imaginary flowers and pretend to be the First Mother. I'm going to get dressed now." She nods her head and finally leaves. I set the candle on my cabinet and pull on a fresh robe. I pat my braid and feel how loose the strands have become; it's practically misshapen from sleep. The Arche Mother will _hate_ that. I walk the ten paces from my door to hers and knock. Mother Franklin opens it and I feel the warmth from the fire draw me in.

The Arche Mother sits behind her thick wooden desk. It's been stained an intimidating shade of black. Behind her, to her right, is a fireplace sunken into the stone wall, big enough for me to stand up in. Currently, it is filled with high, crackling flames. To her left is a collection of windows that look onto the courtyard, but right now they only reflect the flames. The rest of the space is covered in threadbare rugs, leather books, and pots of various plants. There's a quit beauty to this place, and sometimes I almost enjoy being in here. I take my usual heavy oak chair in front of her desk and say, "I'm here."

"I can see that," she says, not looking up from stroking her old black cat, Lucifer, in her lap. I'm not surprised that she does not offer condolences for Ash's death. "Now don't dawdle, you've wasted enough time already. I must send a letter to the Hierophant, not that _he_ will care; his condolences after little River's death were paltry and laconic, indeed. Pah, I would be wiser to solely address his Mistress then," she grumbles. "Are you ready yet, girl?"

The Arche Mother_ hates _relying on the Hierophant. Being privy to delicate information about the inner workings of the Family is one of the only perks of being her acolyte. Just like all my Sisters, I grew up thinking of the Arche Mother and the Hierophant as a team, heads of our household, upholding not only order within the Family but binding us all together. They were the shining beacons of humanity for me; what kept our Family from slipping back into the dark times after the fall of the last society. Now I know how the Hierophant undermines the Arche Mother. She is supposed to hold as much power as he in the running of the Family, but how can she apply it when she is all the way out here? Home is days away and he can rule uncontested in her absence. Now I know that we rely on him for goods and he uses us to keep the Family relying on him.

"Yes, yes," I say distractedly, sitting back in my chair having utilized her rant to push my tiny writing desk from the edge of the room, after ridding it of plants and books, that seem to encroach upon it whenever I leave, and replacing them with paper, quill, and ink. I pull the desk in front of me and dip my quill in ink. "What would you have me write?" She leans back in her chair, folds her knitted hands over her prodigious belly, and dictates her letter to me. I use one arm to hold back my sleeve and write as quickly as I can. I barely pay attention to the words, I usually just write them down and immediately forget them, but every time she has me write Ash's name my pen jerks noticeably. I typically write beautiful script, which may be another reason I got stuck as the Arche Mother's acolyte. The only upside is my private room, though I frequently find myself shut in here with the old woman and question if it is worth it. Ally doesn't believe me when I tell her how rude the old women is to me. I lose track of the Arche Mother's dictation in my distraction.

"I'm sorry," I pipe up, interrupting her. "What did you say after 'This inauspicious incident brings misery to us all-'"

"-and it is amplified in the shadow of our dwindling supplies from Home. Pay attention, girl" she says, slapping a hand on her desk. I jump in my seat, as if I felt the slap on my skin. Lucifer jumps down from her lap and scampers away. "We are nearly totally dependent upon Home for coin and goods. If you wish not to starve this winter you had better pay attention to your letter, for that is all we have in the way of persuading the Hierophant."

"But-but the entire Family is suffering a famine now, of course we will have to suffer with them-"

"Not the Mothers. We are the backbone, we are the heart, and if we do not receive enough to sustain our numbers then the Family has no hope. The Hierophant knows this. Now, clean the wax from your ears and pay attention. And for the Mother's sake," she snarls, shaking her head, "straighten your damn braid. You look a disgrace."

My subtle rebellion over, I unwind my braid and let my long hair fall lankly down my back before I run my fingers through the strands and start plaiting it again. To get back at her, I bring up her least favorite subject.

"So," I start, "if you really think we're in desperate straits, and you really think we need to convince the Heirophant we need increased rations, then wouldn't it make sense to have an advocate for us in Home?"

"You know as well as I do that Mother Ganda has no real power in her position as head Mother of Home. She only attends to the Hierophant's health, and though I hear she is with him several times throughout the day, trying to cure old age and corpulence, she is in no position to offer political advice."

"I didn't mean her. I'm talking about the Mistress."

Her eyes dart to mine for only a second but I can still see her barely controlled anger. She rises from her chair and walks across the room, her robe swishing against the floor, to interrupt Lucifer while licking his paw and curl him into her arms. She sits back in her chair and arranges her cat in her lap before speaking.

"I will not associate with that woman."

"She could be a very powerful ally."

"Powerful, yes, but an ally she will never be."

"You can't know that without talking to-"

"Bella, would you ever hurt an innocent person?"

The question catches me off guard and I answer, affronted, "Of course not!"

"What if there were no consequences? What if no one ever need know, and she had information you needed?"

"I don't understand. Why are you asking me this?"

"The Mistress understands. She understands very well that she can act with impunity and disregard for morals and human life. She does not show weakness, nor love, nor mercy."

"What do you mean? What has she done?"

She looks up from petting Lucifer, her hand motionless atop his thick fur, and stares into my eyes. Her face is lined, her olive skin is pale, and her eyes are puffy from strain. Her mouth is pressed into a flat line and I know she doesn't want to answer my question.

"There are thing even you do not want to know, child."


End file.
